


Anomaly

by evilmouse



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Shadows of the Empire - Steve Perry
Genre: Blow Jobs, Casual Sex, Crack Treated Seriously, Droids, F/M, It's hard work seducing a Jedi, Jedi Luke Skywalker, Memory Loss, Missing Scene, Oral Sex, Pining, Rare Pairings, Robot/Human Relationships, Shadows of the Empire: Evolution, Spaceships, The Erotic Adventures of Luke Skywalker, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:08:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22297585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evilmouse/pseuds/evilmouse
Summary: After human replica droid Guri is reprogrammed, she still retains some memories of one particularly handsome Jedi Knight.
Relationships: Guri/Luke Skywalker
Comments: 24
Kudos: 43
Collections: Luke Deserves All The Blowjobs





	Anomaly

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shanlyrical](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shanlyrical/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Eight at the Most](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21668545) by [SassySnowperson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SassySnowperson/pseuds/SassySnowperson). 



> If you haven't read _Shadows of the Empire: Evolution,_ all you need to know is Guri was an assassin droid who looks perfectly human (and gorgeous of course). She tried to kill Luke, and he didn't finish her off when she lost. Now, she's been reprogrammed/selectively memory-wiped by her creator, and meets Luke again.
> 
> I am gifting this to shanlyrical, because I never thought of this pairing until they requested it for the [2019 Star Wars Rare Pairs Fic Exchange.](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/swrarepairs2019) Although I didn't get assigned it, it's been dancing around my brain ever since.
> 
> I also was inspired by the amazing droid/human sex of sassysnowperson, and probably wouldn't have dared to write this without their amazing fic shipping Luke with K-2SO.
> 
> Written for the fic whining circle's Luke Deserves All The Blowjobs challenge!

“I’m Luke Skywalker.”

She already knew that, although Guri could no longer remember the detailed reason why. When Massad had investigated the intruder alert on the security cam, the strongly drawn lines of Skywalker’s tanned face had been the only one she’d recognized. Flashes of brightness—digital synapses firing and failing to resolve—blinked and disappeared in her central processor as Guri attempted to determine their shared history.

The human was looking at her as if he’d just asked a question, not introduced himself. His full lips drew naturally down in an inverse catenary, intense eyes (of the color that her databanks filed in the library of shades named ‘sky blue’ and Guri registered that as a fortuitous irony if ever there was one) slightly narrowed as he awaited her reply.

Guri wasn’t just the most advanced human replica droid in appearance—she also had been programmed to interpret over five million sentient micro-expressions as part of her class four status. Although the objective had been to facilitate the recognition of threats—something she knew without understanding how it was relevant to her service functions—it also gave her a vast database to draw from when attempting to communicate.

Guri recognized innumerable physical cues, and could imitate them flawlessly, limited only by her humanoid anatomy. These gestures and expressions were not at all false, but rather true and automatic—somatic responses to digital neural stimuli. Common human emotions such as fear, surprise, sadness, and joy were naturally encoded into her cerebral core. When external stimuli triggered sensors identified as appropriate for inciting emotion, Guri displayed typical sentimental cues instantaneously, as a living human. Therefore, the generation of human response and reaction wasn’t a challenge. Rather, Guri was most aware when she wished to consciously _suppress_ them, much as any normal sentient. It was another aspect of her creation that contributed to her realistic presentation.

Less than one standard second had passed since Luke’s introduction. 

Guri was still searching, memory finally seizing upon the relevant file in her biofiber-coated processing “brain.” Access was instantaneous. It wasn’t corrupted, but it _was_ incomplete.

This man—a hero of the Rebellion, according to her creator—had spared her from deactivation. Her systems retained no details. Clearly one of the “bad memories” that Massad had surgically purged. But Skywalker wasn’t a threat—not then, when he had mercy on her, and not now, with this present look of curiosity and interest brightening his features. Perhaps he was here to arrest her, or to take her for further reprogramming, although he displayed none of the stress, anger, or condemnation cues Guri would have associated with such purpose. Still, she _had_ just undergone a memory purge. That meant she had likely done criminal things, although Massad insisted the erasure had been at her own request, not the result of a court sentence, manufacturing defect, change of ownership, or directed punishment.

Skywalker’s mouth parted to reveal a glimpse of white, the asymmetry of his top and bottom lips identified as attractive according to her understanding of human aesthetics. The new data was filed routinely.

Guri considered myriad responses, sorting through them and selecting what her CPU identified as that which would be received as the most honest amongst all possibilities—the one that “felt right” to her droid programming. 

One second and 3/10ths exactly had passed since Skywalker had spoken. 

When Guri replied, her mien was serious, her tone even more so. “I know. You spared me. Gave me a second chance. I understand I must have done something really evil for you to come for me. I’ll go along quietly.”

A pause of three and 16/45ths standard seconds, and then Skywalker answered with a question: “You really don’t remember, do you?”

She detected awe, relief, slight concern in the human’s oddly accented voice. The ‘sky blue’ of his eyes turned lighter. They were now a color bordering on what her databanks wanted to name ‘powder,’ but it wasn’t any exact match to reference hues. An eighteen digit number coded to the shade was systematically spawned for later identification and recall. The apparent spontaneous pigment dilution was an interesting phenomenon that Guri noted for future analysis, as she did with all anomalies; it was most definitely atypical for human eyes to change color without accompanying perspective, lighting, or artificial adjustment. 

Perhaps Massad’s operation had compromised her photoreceptors. 

Quickly cycling through her low-light, infrared, and telescopic vision settings, Guri decided she didn’t need to prioritize this maintenance. Everything seemed in working order. However she logged the information in case it was necessary for future amendments, then smiled with autogenetic sincerity, lowering her vocal register.

“I don’t. And I’m glad I don’t. But I’m also glad that Massad’s modifications allowed me to retain some memory of your kindness.”

The man looked more intently at her, the blue of his stare almost glowing. Guri concluded she liked him very much. Skywalker had not dismissed her as his colleagues had; he evidently had no problem engaging with droids. He spoke to her like she was a person, a living sentient. 

The woman in his group was clearly suspicious of her, distrust evident in her features. Guri didn’t blame the one called Leia; it was easy enough to accept fault for something of which she had no recollection. When she sifted through memory banks in search of an explanation, she came up empty—likely another incident that was deleted when she was “fixed.” It also could be simple jealousy. Guri’s processor reassured her that emotion was both common and accepted as a human behavioral reaction. 

The two men accompanying Skywalker responded well to her on a superficial level. They were appreciative of her design, as most humans were, but otherwise displayed no interest. The Wookiee acted as if she wasn’t there, but Guri’s sensory receptors knew, by the tension in his frame, this was not at all the case. The Wookiee was aware, alert, and on guard. It was possible the vigilant demeanor was a standard setting for his race and not associated with her presence. Her Wookiee data files were inconclusive.

Guri’s eyes examined Luke Skywalker’s. Her own visual sensors—a pristine color called ‘azure’ per her databanks—watched his pupil size increase by six micromillimeters. Interesting.

“I’m glad you don’t remember too,” he said then, smiling back. 

When Skywalker smiled, the top row of his well-aligned white teeth were exposed, the corners of his mouth drawn upwards. The thin lines that appeared in his cheeks, bracketing the change in expression, were perceived as exceptionally pleasing to Guri’s aesthetic discrimination. These lines, combined with his disheveled hair (a color that was too difficult for her CPU to name, as it had catalogued as many as seventeen different shades making up the whole of his head) and the creases alongside his not-quite-sky-not-quite-powder-blue eyes were recorded and processed. 

The result was that Luke Skywalker was extremely handsome. 

Guri accepted his appeal automatically. Evaluation of human charisma was one of her learned processes, and therefore as close to personal taste as a droid could get. She registered the attraction, and concurrently resolved to act upon it. Statistically, a proposition for sexual intimacy targeted to a human male she found attractive was low-risk, with a high probability of success.

“I would like to thank you for that kindness,” Guri said, watching closely to see how he would interpret her words. “If you would allow me?” Her hips shifted, invitation infused in both voice and movement.

The suggestion didn’t immediately produce a reaction, then, as Skywalker grew to understand, a slight flush rose from the rim of the collar of his black tunic. It represented arousal or embarrassment, a difference challenging to discern, even for a replica droid as advanced as Guri. She switched briefly to infrared to scan him, then back to normal visual.

“We could go aboard my ship, the _Stinger_ …” Guri continued, calculating data input and drawing encouraging conclusions as to the cause of the displacement of blood in Skywalker’s body.

“That’s not necessary,” he interrupted in a low voice. The tonal dynamic indicated significant discomfort. Skywalker was attracted to her—his body language earlier and behavior now allowed the extrapolation. Most sentients were, so this information was not at all noteworthy; Guri denied it processing space. However his current reluctance was incongruous with these signals, advancing another derived assumption.

“I understand,” she replied, synthetic regret that accurately reflected the negative systems feedback his refusal had produced flavoring her voice. “I _look_ human, but I’m not.”

“Luke! C’mon!” His friends were calling. Skywalker turned and nodded once in their direction, then held out a hand to shake hers in the galactically-accepted Outer, Mid, and Core worlds tradition.

“Good luck, Guri,” he said, as she took it.

It was a prosthetic. 

Guri registered the difference in temperature of synthskin, the strength of its cybernetic skeleton, the texture that was identical to human flesh in almost every way, noticeable only to droids with biologically advanced programming, like her.

Shock that was completely genuine betrayed her reaction to his touch. Anomalies were, by definition, unexpected. Her ocular receptors enlarged, artificial lungs contracted, and fingers clenched involuntarily, testing Skywalker’s strength in a reflex that she hadn’t known lay within her system. Their eyes met as Guri still held his hand.

“You’re a cyborg,” she marveled, stunned that she hadn’t noticed during the infrared scan. Her desire for Skywalker had resulted in minuscule impediments to her sensory relays, but such a degree of interference was unprecedented. This observational negligence was on par with human levels—practically a malfunction.

His smile vanished, white teeth disappearing and mouth pressed tightly closed. Guri wondered if she had insulted him. But no visible distaste—raised cheek muscles, stretched upper lip, among other signs—could be observed.

“I hadn’t really thought of it that way,” Skywalker said, “but I suppose so, yes.”

He made no move to pull away, his own human replica fingers still clasped in hers.

“Only your hand?” she asked, scrutinizing it. The appendage fascinated her—this idea that such an attractive person also had wires and pistons and synthetic tissue as part of his whole made Skywalker inordinately intriguing. Guri adjusted her previous appraisal accordingly, rewriting her aesthetic assessments to maximum favorability.

“Wrist, partial forearm too,” he answered, tilting his head and looking down at his own body as if he had forgotten.

Guri reached out with her left hand, smoothing a tight clamp along the black sleeve of his arm, feeling for the seam of the robotic limb beneath. Skywalker withstood her touch, studying her movements, the pressure of her fingers against the soft cloth.

“Is this why—” _you didn’t terminate me_ Guri meant to finish, but her query was cut off by a shout.

“Luke!” This time it was the woman who called, concern darkening her eyes and impatient disapproval in her voice.

“I’ll catch up!” Skywalker called back, extracting his fingers from Guri’s with a slow pull that her tactile analysis categorized as both sensual and reluctant. She let her other hand drop. 

His friends moved further away with Massad, save the battle-scarred astromech droid that trundled to Skywalker’s side. It beeped and whistled a series of doting and critical phrases at Skywalker, using terms appropriate for the closest of companions, rarely heard in binary. Guri was astonished at the additional anomaly—she hadn’t known astromechs could be programmed to show affection.

“Your R2 unit is remarkable, Mr. Skywalker.”

He grinned in agreement. “You can call me Luke. And remarkable is a good word for him.” Then, turning to the droid, “Don’t worry, Artoo, I’ll be fine.”

A digital gurgle of protest. The two argued briefly, Guri startled at Luke’s apparent comprehension of binary slang. She added this information to her memory banks as another anomaly. They were piling up, where Luke Skywalker was concerned.

“Perhaps I can allay his fears,” she interjected, offering a hand to the droid, who rolled suspiciously to her side.

The appearance of personality and simulated emotion in the unit was inspiring. Guri knew _she_ was highly advanced—perhaps the most advanced droid ever created—but the realistic promulgation of concern in such a basic and limited function droid was something she’d never seen before—the data contradicted all established parameters. And it was _Luke’s_ droid. _He_ was the one that had inspired this sophisticated programmatic evolution. It was astounding. 

Guri’s CPU made revolutionary adjustments to known algorithms associated with astromech units, even as she held out a finger for the R2-D2—Artoo, as Luke had fondly called it.

“You should be able to interface with my system tactilely,” she explained to the little droid, “as long as you have a dataport that can scan through dermis.”

Artoo chirped a question.

“No, it’s not synthskin. It’s human, cloned and reinforced with biofibers beneath the hypodermis to retard the aging process.”

Artoo warbled in skepticism and opened a squeaky panel, extending a data probe. Guri held her hand immobile, allowing the droid access to her programming in observer status. She kept no secrets from it, and was confident, no matter what other types of modifications had been made to its functions, that interfering with her programming was impossible without Massad’s surgical skill.

Guri held Luke’s eyes during Artoo’s exploration of her system. Delving deep into her processor, his droid let out a low whistle of appreciation. It scanned her with thoroughness and expertise, and apparently found no threat. She felt the astromech access her pleasure databanks and could have sworn it let out the equivalent of a human trill of titillation; it had no meaning in binary as far as she could tell. Shortly after, Artoo withdrew and spun its dome towards Luke.

“Well?” Luke said, indulgence tinging the question. “All right with you?”

The droid’s response was a mixture of indignation and vulgarity, and then beeped the equivalent of “have a good time,” as he rolled away. Guri didn’t hide her amusement at its assumption.

“Hey!” Luke protested weakly, but the astromech didn’t slow, joining the Wookiee and humans who were now departing with Massad towards the spaceport.

“Sorry about that,” Luke said, forcing a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I just thought maybe you’d want a few minutes to talk, actually.” The flush that had lingered around his collar began to creep higher. “Cyborg to cyborg.”

“I’d love to,” Guri said. “My ship?”

~~

The _Stinger_ had been heavily modified to her specifications. Guri was proud of the spaceship; her memories of the upgrades and improvements made under her direction were intact, although some of the situational information had been erased. Luke knew his ships, it was evident, and just as evident that he was impressed during the tour of the Conqueror-class assault vessel. He was captivated by the technology—opening panels, probing wires, and examining each enhancement. Luke praised the modified Class 1 CRC H2-1 hyperdrive, congratulated her on the foresight of having a Class 10 backup, was suitably shocked at the proton torpedo armaments, and practically reverential of the motility upgrades.

“I’ve never seen anything like this actually _work_ ,” Luke almost whispered when she showed him how the engine exhausts were used instead of maneuvering jets for enhanced agility. “I suppose superior reflexes make it more feasible…but still…”

Guri invited him to investigate at leisure, patiently observing her guest. Her own pleasure receptors, calibrated to deliver positive feedback at things like specific touch or words, sent a ripple of sensation through her system. Luke liked her ship, admired her ingenuity… It was undeniable. She watched his long fingers run over the ion cannons’ redundant fire controls, thanking Massad, the Maker, for his nuanced and advanced attention to her neural responses. She really liked Luke, as much as she _could_ like someone, and his astromech’s devotion suddenly made a lot more sense. 

This wasn’t a man who simply understood machines and mechanics, he harbored a passion that inspired another sizzling trickle of sensory stimulus through her system. This strong appreciation of his personal attributes alongside her previous physical evaluation had now made Luke even more fascinating. Guri smiled at him, finding it necessary to recalibrate her maxed out favorability settings to account for higher positive feedback reception.

She wondered as to his flaws. All sentients had them. What type of counterbalance could temper this seeming ideal? She considered the consequences of violating social and cultural construct protocols to ask Luke that question, and deemed the risk unacceptable. Her desire to keep him pleased and comfortable prevented it. Unfortunate. It would have been good to know.

When at last Luke straightened, eyes still shining at the discoveries he’d made (Guri was all but certain he planned on incorporating some of her ideas into his own spacecraft), she reached for his hand.

“Let me show you the guest cabin.”

Luke tensed, his hand stiffening in hers as if the knuckles no longer were capable of bending.

“You mentioned earlier that you had the crew quarters removed?”

His warm voice had turned wary, nervous. Guri analyzed his reluctance. It was true she wasn’t programmed as a pleasure model, but was certain she could satisfy him without disgracing her manufacturer regardless. Plus, as was already noted, Luke was attracted to her. Her tactile analysis capabilities were fine-tuned; his heartbeat had quickened in the few seconds since she touched him. 

“Luke,” she ventured, taking a step to stand before him, “what are you afraid of?”

The question did what she’d intended. He straightened, squeezed her hand once, but then tugged it from her grasp.

“I’m not afraid of you, Guri. I never was.”

“Good,” she replied, leaning into his body, pressing her lips to his. The fact that Luke let her kiss him despite the observed reluctance was a surprise, registered as another anomalous response in her databanks. Based upon his behavior, Guri had anticipated token resistance or perfunctory argument, but Luke’s lips pressed back, hard against her mouth. She smoothed her hands up the front of his tunic, closing her eyes and enjoying the sensory input of pressure, heat, and moisture, underscored by what could best be described as euphoria at his acceptance. But the pleasurable feedback assimilation was premature—Luke captured her hands before they could wrap around his neck, breaking the kiss.

He swallowed, looking at her with something very similar to the fear he professed not to have, eyebrows drawn together, forehead furrowed.

“It’s because I’m a droid.” 

She said it for him. The negativity now associated with the statement was not part of her logical feedback loop, but was nonetheless undeniable. The faux heart that beat in her chest seemed to clench in sympathy, an involuntary response Guri didn’t understand and catalogued as another anomaly.

“Well…” A brief, awkward smile. “That’s part of it.”

Nodding, Guri stepped back as Luke released her hands. She pulled her long blonde hair into a complex knotted twist behind her head, more as a stalling tactic than out of any cosmetic or practical purpose. Contemplating how to proceed, Guri scoured her databanks for eventualities and psychological resources to make her case. 

Luke was kind. He was smiling. He had kissed her back.

“You are attracted to me, though.”

“You’re beautiful,” he admitted without hesitation.

The compliment registered as another wave of pleasure in her receptors. She had heard the same thing many times, but Luke’s praise was already categorized by her system as uniquely valued.

“I function in every way as a ‘real’ woman,” Guri said quietly. “You wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.” 

It was a fact. Her body had been manufactured using the highest quality biofiber for her chassis and the fabricated organs within: heart, lungs, brain, stomach, and more intimate systems, all replicated to be indiscernible to all but the most sophisticated biological scans.

Luke was silent for six and 4/5th of a standard second. 

He blinked once. 

Guri felt inadequate for the first time since her “rebirth.” She wondered if this was the making of a bad memory like those she had wanted purged before. Massad would have to explain how to deal with new ones, when they occurred.

“Why?” Luke asked, voice calm, his heartbeat stabilizing. “Why do you want to?”

Guri quickly ran an analysis of their interactions. When she had offered sex to thank him, he had not responded favorably. Therefore, gratitude had already been established as insufficient rationale for him to acquiesce to her desires or submit to his own.

“I like you,” she confessed. “I know it may seem impossible to you, but it’s true. You were nice to me, even when I did bad things. And you defended me to your friends. You believe—you know—that I’ve changed.” 

Tilting her head, noting the fine line of his jaw, the hint of stubble beginning to shadow his cheeks, Guri continued. “And you’re handsome. I’m able to appreciate beauty and cultivate and adapt my aesthetic parameters based upon observations.” She shrugged in an exceptionally human way, noting the slight blush spreading to his ears. “My attraction resulted in a necessary recalibration less than five minutes ago.” 

He didn’t seem to understand. She smiled an apology, unsure how else to explain it. “I’m sure it sounds strange.”

Luke looked unconvinced, and Guri decided he was likely also revisiting their earlier conversation. Sentient thought processes could at times be almost as thorough as digital ones. She had already underestimated him too many times to do so again.

“I believe you,” Luke sighed as if disappointed in his own credulity, “but if you’re going to function as a human, or even as a droid, you should value yourself more highly.” He looked meaningfully at her, neck muscles and jaw tense. “Not as payment, or a way to show gratitude.”

Guri allowed frustration to color her features, nostrils flaring slightly. 

“I listed many of my reasons. There are more, if you want to hear them.” Her voice grew defensive, sensors responding to unfavorable input. “Why is it easier for you to accept the affection of squat, round astromech than someone who looks like _me_ , exactly human?”

Luke was taken aback, eyes rounding, his jaw hanging in surprise.

“Wait—”

“It’s true,” she interrupted. “You must know Artoo loves you.”

The idea seemed to confuse him, but not because he disagreed. It was clear that Luke Skywalker had never really thought objectively about the “feelings” his droid had for him, or the implications of it.

“You’re right,” he finally admitted. “But there’s history there…he’s one of my best friends. We’ve been though a lot together.”

Guri bit her lip in a very human imitation of dismay. Most of her gestures and reactions were so ingrained, so deeply-rooted, she was barely aware of them. This one, as it was the first time she had used it, was noted for its rarity.

“I’m not going to ask you to tell me what happened between us—I’m sure there’s a good reason I didn’t want to remember.” Guri crossed her arms, the gesture automatic when her speech processors registered argumentative conversation. “And I’m not going to pretend that I deserve anything close to the affection you have for Artoo. But just like him, my system registers words, touch, and actions. I translate the data into categories.” 

Luke was listening, his expression blank. The lack of visual input was frustrating, but Guri was impressed at his ability to mask his emotions. She went on. 

“For example, praise has a positive effect on my processing, and insults negatively affect my performance. Both incite specific and varied responses. My feelings may have begun as merely advanced programming, but I learn and adapt, and self-modify.” Luke nodded once, and she interpreted it as encouragement to continue. 

“It’s just like how I upgraded my ship—only it’s self-improvement. I’ve upgraded myself. I feel _alive_. I feel in control of my being and my existence. And I feel. I have no way of knowing how similar it is to what a human feels…what _you_ feel... But…” She stepped closer to him again. Luke didn’t move.

“…When I see desire in your eyes, I want to respond to it because I _like_ you.” She lifted a careless palm and let it drop. “I also saw desire in your friends’ eyes, but I didn’t want to respond to it.”

He looked about to laugh, then thought better of it. Now it was Luke who crossed his arms, one hand raised to his mouth. His prosthetic thumb rested against upturned lips.

“I see,” was all that came out. 

“You don’t believe me,” Guri said, registering the slowing of his pulse, the artery in his neck no longer throbbing. She had failed to convince him.

“I do, actually,” he countered. “And I’m glad it’s not part of your programming, that it’s something that you can decide for yourself.”

“It _is_ part of my programming, Luke. One of the best parts, one that generates the most positive feedback to my system, which makes me feel my version of pleasure and happiness.”

“But you just said—”

“I said it was a _choice_. That doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy sexual activity. I do. Giving pleasure to sentients is one sector where I experience great fulfillment.” She looked hard at him, hands on hips. “When successful.”

Luke coughed, right hand lowering to rest on his opposite bicep.

“‘Successful’ meaning achieving your orgasm,” she explained, in case he hadn’t understood. That blood vessel in his throat began to throb again. Guri smiled. Perhaps he would agree now, with this visible proof of his interest returning.

“What about _your_ orgasm?”

The question surprised her. _Luke_ surprised her. Another anomaly registered. The man called Luke Skywalker did not conform to human sexual behavioral stereotypes. Or many other stereotypes. 

Guri realized the _real_ anomaly was her continuous lack of anticipation of his numerous ones, and adjusted her neural evaluations to expect more of them. When Luke was unpredictable, the behavior would still be recorded as unusual, but would no longer produce the equivalent of surprise in her responses.

“I am capable of it,” she answered his question, “but to be completely transparent, I get no more pleasure from one than the other. The sensory input is of course different, but the stimuli resulting is recorded and processed the same.” She laughed. “It sounds very dry and impersonal, to discuss like this, doesn’t it?”

Luke smiled tightly, the look strange, nervous more than amused.

Her processor spit out the most probable extrapolated rationale for this response.

“Do you already have a lover and are pledged to monogamy? I would not interfere with your happiness.”

Luke laughed once, a soft and dismissive huff.

“No, I’m not in a relationship.”

“A virgin? A vow of chastity?” Guri’s databanks sent forth known human obstacles to sexual activity.

Shaking his head, Luke ran a hand through his hair, another small chuckle escaping that resolved into a grin.

“Nope. And no.” He looked at her again, taking in her posture. Guri watched his eyes drift over her body, taking in the way her flightsuit clung to her breasts and hips. Luke’s gaze stopped at all the right places. He no longer appeared nervous, his visual scan settling oddly at her shoulder, or somewhere beyond it.

“Impotence?” She cocked her head. “I can assist if—”

“No.” A very firm negative as he shook his head, voice changed in pitch. Luke’s breathing patterns had shifted, indicating heightened arousal, but he didn’t meet her eyes. A quick visual check informed her that impotence definitely was not an issue. So it was simple avoidance. Luke was resistant, pretending disinterest. 

“Back to my status as the problem then,” Guri let her arms drop, hanging at her sides. She would no longer pursue the topic at the risk of his distress or ire. “Despite what you said earlier, we both know I’m not a cyborg like you. I’m a _droid_.” Guri sighed, turning to leave the cockpit.

Luke Skywalker’s pleasure had been something she wanted to precipitate, to witness—something she knew would be categorized as special in her files. But it wasn’t to be. Disappointment in her own failure looped like static through her network, a rough crackle that stung. Her processor struggled with an attempt to lower Luke in its positive value hierarchy and failed. 

She couldn’t blame him for his rejection. Preceding observations prevented an adjustment to his status, her evaluation, notwithstanding the negative feedback that flowed inside her, unchecked and cold. She still liked him. The admission heightened the negative sensory cycle and Guri grimaced as she walked.

Luke followed her into the main cargo bay.

“Weren’t you going to show me the guest berth? Is it as impressive as the rest of the _Stinger_?” he asked evenly. Guri’s praise receptor stuttered. This was an unequivocal positive development.

“This way,” she answered, leading him past where the crew quarters used to be, before she had them gutted. The aft section of the ship was full of consoles and equipment that had been specially installed. Guri’s systems were in overload, competing and conflicting sensory data failing to resolve into likely outcomes. Luke’s rejection had been categorized as definitive, but current circumstances offered contrary evidence. A low buzzing in her ear was a worrisome development. Guri disabled her logic alerts, slowing to see why Luke was no longer at her side.

He’d paused over the hyper-advanced communications panel. It was customized to her exact specifications. Luke trailed an admiring hand over the controls before meeting her where she stood.

A small portal, easily mistaken for a storage closet, slid open when she punched in the access code.

“Guest berths,” Guri proclaimed with pride, gesturing to the small cabin. She hoped it would incite more praise, something she craved from Luke Skywalker. Although he wouldn’t share himself with her, she could still benefit from his presence, his approval of her work. 

The room’s outfittings were modest, but it could accommodate sentient travelers if necessary. Since Guri did not sleep, it was a luxury to her to have dedicated such a space to potential guests.

There were two narrow beds, one lining each wall to the left and right of the door. No refresher was attached—the ship only had one and it was located on the other side of what was formerly the crew quarters. This was indeed a refitted storage room. Shelves and modular closets were built into the wall perpendicular to the entryway for stowage.

“Looks like a barracks,” Luke commented. “Only smaller.” He turned his brilliant smile on her as she attempted to slot this comment as praise into her network, which was resisting. “Guess you don’t get much company, huh?”

“No,” Guri answered softly. “I don’t.”

Luke sat on one of the narrow bunks, hands flat on the mattress, elbows locked behind him. She couldn’t read his face, all her systems struggling to make sense of the rapid flurry of micro-expressions flying across his features. Giving up, she switched to infrared, visual sensors widening as the competing data resolved into a single, obvious result.

“All right,” he started. “But—”

“Let me,” Guri interrupted, dropping to her knees in front of Luke before he could reconsider or talk himself out of it. She already had considered all possible methods for pleasuring him, identified his hesitation, his discomfort with her kiss. Luke would most benefit from activities that required minimal active involvement on his part—ideally completely passive. Clearly kissing was to be avoided, as was prolonged eye contact. Guri accepted the limitations without insult. She was already humming internally with positive feedback from his agreement, and confident of success.

Switching back to normal vision, she made quick work of Luke’s worn leather belt and hitched up his woven tabard. Guri didn’t look at him, keeping her head bent, entirely focused on the task at hand. Her fingers’ tactual sensors registered the heat of his skin that she’d already recorded visually, the concentration of blood beneath already flowing to where it was most needed. 

Luke’s breathing hitched as she undid the fastenings on his pants. He lifted his hips, allowing her to pull the black material to pool above the shafts of his boots. He didn’t need to disrobe completely—Guri calculated this convenience would lessen any embarrassment or hesitation. 

His cock was very nice. Guri’s memory banks had already logged it as aesthetically superior. She wondered briefly why she had no memory in her databanks of other sexual experiences, only the knowledge of them, then quickly excised that concern. It seemed advisable to file it into the equivalent of a folder marked “do not access” in her CPU. 

Returning her attention to the cock at the level of her lips, she took a moment to further appreciate it. While Luke’s length was measured as moderately above average for a human male, its circumference was large, almost disproportionately so. The veins running along his shaft would serve as natural ribbing, certain to heighten the pleasure of his partners, and its color was well-matched to the bronze of his legs.

Guri glided her hands up Luke’s thighs, controlling the pressure and speed for maximum anticipation.

“What about you?”

Hands frozen near his hip joints, Guri lifted her head and cautiously met Luke’s unfocused blue gaze. He clearly hadn’t expected this outcome when he’d agreed to whatever he thought he’d agreed to. 

_Maybe I’m **his** anomaly. _

The parallel traversed her logic sector, and then lodged, oddly, in her pleasure circuits. Guri liked that idea. Liked it a great deal.

“This is what I want to do, Luke,” she assured him. “If it’s still all right?”

“I think…” He trailed off. “Yes,” he amended, shifting mid-thought.

Guri smiled at him, making certain he saw all natural signs of lust, eagerness, and excitement in her eyes. Licking her lips, she lowered her head between his legs.

His erection twitched as she neared it, but Guri ignored it for the moment, placing a soft kiss on the inside of his left thigh, then another on the inside of the right. She trailed a lazy and meandering line with her tongue from the skin there upwards, taking care to stop well before she reached the apex. Mirroring the movement, her tongue teased and twirled a promise of its talents along the toned muscle of his adductors, feeling him tense and relax in a strange rhythm. It was as if Luke desperately wanted to surrender to her ministrations, but was struggling. Spreading his legs wider, Guri ducked beneath Luke’s straining cock, taking first one of his balls, then the other between her lips, sucking gently. A sigh, a hand in her hair.

She’d been teasing him now for several minutes, and decided Luke likely anticipated that she would approach his cock with the same delicate licks and kisses as she’d decorated the rest of his skin. But Guri had other ideas. Smiling with satisfaction, she released his balls and, without pause, sank the entire length of his cock between her lips.

The sensitive tip hit the back of her throat as Luke groaned, fingers fisting against her scalp, then relaxing as if ashamed of his own bliss. Guri withdrew, then took him again completely, swiping her tongue around his cock in a rough circle as he entered her mouth, lips stretched by his thickness.

Guri guessed that his usual partners could not handle the entirety of him, and this seemed an accurate assumption, judging by the enthusiastic reaction. Luke’s hips jerked violently as she glided him out slowly. A bead of precum leaked from the tip. She lapped at him, savoring the taste. His hand left her hair as she tongued the slit of his cock, rubbing her lips along the slick head before swallowing him once more.

“Fuck,” he swore, lying back on his elbows. Guri dared a glance from beneath her eyelids. Luke’s head was dangling, neck bared and eyes closed. His chest was moving with erratic breath, long fingers clutching the edge of the bedframe. 

Slowly, Guri drew back and then began to pump his cock more rhythmically, enjoying the smooth slide of it between her lips as she accommodated his size. The full length drove repeatedly down her throat, challenging her and sending thrills of pride and pleasure through her sensory receptors. Her own body was responding, programmed to lubricate once foreplay commenced. Synthetic fluid moistened the crotch of her suit. Gratified at her own stimulation as well as his, she pulled back and then slammed her nose hard against his lower belly once more. 

Her hands now joined her lips in their attentions, pressing underneath his balls, tracing the seam up to the base of his cock and then back down. Her elbows kept him spread wide, even as Luke’s legs tensed and contracted. She paused only a moment to swipe a finger alongside him in her mouth, lubricating it with his fluids and hers, before pressing at the cleft of his ass to tease and torment. Luke’s hips slid to the end of the bed, cock lodged deep in her throat. 

His jaw was slack, his uncategorically-colored beautiful eyes dulled with sensory overload. Luke’s black tunic looked too tight, and Guri wished she had asked him to undress completely. It was a view she was confident would have nicely accompanied all other aesthetic data related to him.

Her finger pushed harder, suggesting, seeking permission to explore. Luke’s ass flexed and he seemed to regain some of the sense that he’d happily abandoned earlier.

“Guri…” 

The sound of her name on his tongue sent another surge of pleasure through her sensors, and Guri pulled her mouth from his cock with a sense of triumph. 

“Tell me,” she instructed, one hand still stroking him, slick and smooth. Guri was looking forward to Luke’s direction, to demonstrating her complete mastery of sexual gratification, whatever he asked. Her databanks assured her she would be successful, but without accompanying memories, Guri was more motivated than ever to prove her capabilities to Luke.

“We can…you know,” he said then. “If you want.”

His eyes flicked up briefly, to her left. So quickly, perhaps one-twelfth of a standard second, but Guri noticed. Falsehood. 

Luke was being nice. It was embedded in _his_ programming, she realized. Despite the misgivings he had about fucking a droid, he was trying to give her what he believed she wanted. His offer was obligation, sincere in its way, but not, ultimately, what Luke truly wanted.

“I prefer this,” she promised, punctuating the words with a long unhurried swipe of her tongue. “All right? Next time.”

Guri didn’t know if there would be a next time, but wouldn’t give him a chance to argue, swirling a loop around the tip of his cock before pressing it deep. She tightened her lips around him, at once creating both suction and friction. Her fingers grasped his hips, holding Luke in place as she fucked him with her mouth. 

After two faint moans, he made no further sound. 

Soon after, Guri decided it was time to make him climax. She didn’t know how long his friends would wait, and she couldn’t risk Luke halting her actions, disrupting all the banked pleasure being stored by her datacells. According to established statistical data, no typical human male should be able to retain his composure enough to change his mind this far into a blowjob, but if there was anything she had learned today, it was that Luke Skywalker was most definitely not typical.

Roughly, she increased the speed of her oral thrusts, keeping him pinned to the bed as her mouth channeled his length harder and faster. Luke’s left hand returned to her head as he yielded. Strong thighs clenched, lean stomach tensed, and well-muscled ass jerked twice as he came in waves. His cock was so deep, Guri had to withdraw halfway so her tongue could receive his flavor, register the sensations, the taste and chemical composition of his semen. Exceedingly satisfactory. 

Luke sat up as she cleaned him, licking along the ridged sides of his cock, tasting the sweetness of his skin—sweat and salt and something dark and primal that sent biomechanical shudders through her neural net. When she was finished, Guri sat back on booted heels, hands massaging his thighs, waiting. Luke was still hard, his cock slow to return to a resting position against his leg. 

The proven success of her actions sent a rush of powerful electrical stimuli through Guri’s system, an all-encompassing wash of positive and rewarding feedback that made her circuitry feel heated and optimized. Tingles travelled the length of her biofibrous nerves, transformed into afferent data that was transmitted, relished, and stored in her processor. 

Guri was positive she had enjoyed that just as much as Luke.

He was silent, and Guri did a quick analysis, determining regret was a potential, albeit unlikely, outcome of his orgasm.

“Thank you, Luke,” she said, hands sliding down over his knees to rest on the pants bunched above his shins.

His body language was not what she had hoped, and immediately Guri realized her error, clarifying before he could speak.

“I mean thank you for that experience, the pleasure it brought me. Not thank you for anything else. It wasn’t a thank you blowjob.”

The tension bled out of his frame just as quickly as it had arrived, and she smiled. Humans were delicate, she knew, and Luke was strong, but perhaps in his own way, just as delicate as most.

“Thank you too, then,” he said, studying her face as if judging the honesty of her words, “although for your future reference it’s a little odd to thank someone after…that.”

Guri nodded. The criticism was constructive and she appreciated it. Post-coital gratitude could be perceived as more insulting than complimentary. She wouldn’t make that mistake again.

“Are you sure that I can’t…” he paused, a shy smile suddenly making him appear years younger, “do something for you?”

The proposal was intriguing, especially because this time Guri did not detect falsehood in it. Luke was sincere; the question was genuine.

“I’d like you to hold me,” she replied, “if you don’t mind. In the bed.”

“Hold you?” Luke repeated, and something strange flitted across his features. Visual data indicated sadness, which made no sense to Guri, but before she could withdraw the request, he was reaching down and pulling off his boots.

“No need to undress, Luke,” she informed him. His comfort was paramount, for reasons her processor attempted to parse. She didn’t wish to punish him for his kindness by taking advantage of it.

“For a proper cuddle, Guri, we should both undress.” He nodded at her purple and gold outfit, then tugged his pants all the way off. “Something else you should remember.”

“For future reference,” she grinned, synapses sparking in delight.

“Exactly,” Luke grinned back, unfastening his tunic. Guri arrested her blink function at the sight, recording his movements without interruption for her memory files. She continued to stare as his chest was revealed, even as she removed her own boots and unzipped her suit.

Luke’s torso was well-matched, of course, to the rest of him. Guri’s databanks sighed with delight as they took in his golden skin, his lean chest and perfectly oval nipples, the elegant arched protrusion of his collarbones. His arms were beautiful too, their definition conveying the toned muscles that came from work and an active lifestyle, not hours at the gym. His prosthetic, now fully exposed, was remarkably symmetrical to its natural twin. 

Guri’s mouth rounded; her entire chassis felt like it was vibrating. She had never seen anything like him. Everything was well-formed, everything was appealing, speaking to her aesthetic. Even as she watched, Guri could feel her processor adjusting, rewriting her personal preferences to slot _this_ physique as her human ideal, _this_ skin tone, _this_ eye color, _this_ unnamable shade of hair, _this_ size cock, _this_ timbre of voice, _this_ Outer Rim accent—everything recalibrated in an instant in her system. Luke Skywalker was perfect, as a human should not be. Preposterous but definitive. Her systems could not refute or misinterpret factual data—it was an impossibility.

“You’re beautiful,” Luke told her when she was naked, repeating his earlier phrase, and Guri felt the synaptic feedback flood her system with an almost weakening force.

Guri wondered if perhaps this was what being in love felt like, for humans: simultaneously weak and strong, empowered by sentiment and appreciation but fearful of that power, threatened by its potential absence; liking absolutely everything about someone else, and finding peace as well as lust in reciprocal desire. Her own systems battled to interpret the dichotomy, the bittersweet sense of finding exactly what suited you but being unable to control or keep it. 

Earlier she had wondered at his flaws, and now she had discovered one, and it was crushing: Luke would never accept her as a partner equal to a human—and for that she had already forgiven him. It was understandable, and furthermore, she wasn’t even certain it was unfair. She could love him, protect and adore him like his astromech, grant him more pleasure than any other woman in the world, but it wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted more intangibles than her programming could deliver.

The computation of her own inadequacy made Guri sad, a negative which registered with almost as much strength as her earlier revelation of love. A strange pain in her stomach seemed to wind and unwind as she fought to control her features. She didn’t want Luke to see any negative feedback responses, only positive ones. This resolution seemed indicative of selfless love, as detailed in her cultural literacy files. She would revisit them more often in the future, Guri had no doubt. She would protect him from guilt, bypassing her own natural reflexes to prevent Luke from suffering from his own version of a negative feedback loop.

The human she thought she loved slid to the far side of the narrow bunk, against the wall, beckoning with one flip of his hand.

Guri lay down next to him, but when he tried to slide an arm beneath her as well as around her waist she smiled and shook her head. 

“Go under my neck. I’m too heavy to lie unsupported on you, Luke.”

“All right.” He didn’t argue. Guri lifted her head to allow him to rest his limbs as she’d indicated, then carefully resettled so Luke’s bicep lay in the arc of her throat. His other arm wrapped her tightly against his torso, his head turned sideways against her shoulder.

“This what you had in mind?” he murmured, and she heard contentment in the question. Guri hadn’t known what she had in mind, actually, but Luke’s vocal modulation indicated that this embrace was suitable and appropriate, and her neural and tactile receptors were overwhelmed with pleasurable heat and texture, so she only nodded and whispered a ‘yes’. Luke was happy, and his body was solid and warm and accepting of her for this one brief moment, and so Guri also was content.

Guri closed her eyes, accessing and reviewing her data inputs of the past hour, making certain there was nothing in danger of erasure, corruption, or modification. She backed up the day’s events with quintuple redundancies, adding the current overload of positive feedback resulting from Luke’s touch. These memories of him were now her dreams, and she would protect them. 

She knew he wouldn’t stay long. She also knew he didn’t understand her, couldn’t offer her anything like the affection or devotion he had for his Artoo unit. Still, Guri was satisfied. She didn’t need Luke to love her like she loved him—it was a lot to ask of a human, and all statistics indicated reciprocated selfless love was perhaps the greatest anomaly of all. Guri hoped, for Luke’s sake, that it was one that would someday be a part of his experience.


End file.
